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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379197">it's time to find your wings again</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same'>we_are_the_same</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>One Direction (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Prison, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Development, Emotional Hurt, Jay Tomlinson is in this, Light Angst, M/M, Magical Harry Styles, Mainly this is Louis learning and unlearning things in 12k, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Myth &amp; Folklore, Niall dies offscreen for a minute but is resurrected, Offscreen Torture, Overcoming prejudice, POV Louis Tomlinson, Phoenix Harry, Prejudice against Supernatural Creatures, Prison Guard Louis, Slight Internalized Homophobia, Strangers to Lovers, Supernatural Harry, Supernatural Prison, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Wordplay Fic Challenge (One Direction), Xenophobia, mentions of lynching</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 10:56:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,339</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25379197</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_are_the_same/pseuds/we_are_the_same</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The first reports are dismissed, as tall tales or folklore. As mental illness, poor Bathilda, she’d gone loopy. As people simply getting scared in the dark woods and seeing things, making things up. Magic isn’t real. Mythological creatures aren't real.</p><p>But then the first one is caught. A faun, that little Meg from around the corner swears has attacked her in the woods, and everyone comes to the marketplace to see the faun be hanged for its crimes. Louis doesn’t want to go, but at the same time, he finds himself unable to stay away. Not when this proves what he’s wanted to believe all along, that magic is real. </p><p>*</p><p>Louis is twenty when he starts working at the prison. His fascination for supernatural creatures had turned into something most closely resembling loathing over the years, due to the many stories of their evildoing, and although he still doesn’t believe in hanging them for their crimes, he does believe in keeping the town safe. In making sure that his siblings get to grow up without fear of being kidnapped or hurt. As the oldest son, it feels like his duty to make sure that no creature in the wide area will ever pose a threat to anyone.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>89</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Prompt 3.4: Sin</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>it's time to find your wings again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Please read the tags for this fic; if you don't like reading fics where Jay is a character (she is not a main one but there are a few scenes between her and Louis) then maybe this is not the fic for you. Niall also dies for a hot minute, but it is offscreen and he is resurrected, so this is not tagged as major character death, but please be careful if this sort of thing triggers you. This fic deals with some heavy themes but it's also somehow less angsty than anything I've written recently. </p><p>This week's fic was a <em>challenge</em>. It was half my hip not agreeing with me being on the computer, and half the fact that this little prompt turned into its entire own universe and a 10+k story. It is unbetaed, so if you find any mistakes, please let me know! I hope that despite this not being betaed, the story still holds up as a whole, and that you enjoy it!</p><p>Massive thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylondonderry">Emmu</a> for being my soundboard when I was freaking out about not meeting my deadline and this fic refusing to cooperate. Also thank you to my GC for cheerleading and having faith in me that I could finish. I made it!</p><p>This is part of a Wordplay prompt challenge for the prompt "sin". To read the amazing fics that were written by the others on this prompt, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/sin">click here</a>, and to see all fics written as part of the challenge (including years 1-3), <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/wordplay_fic_challenge/works">click here</a>. You can also find the masterpost for this year’s challenge <a href="https://wordplayfics.tumblr.com/post/622306139518926848/wordplay-2020-every-week-for-five-weeks-a-prompt">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Louis has always been fascinated by Mythology, and the idea of creatures existing outside of the human world. Of dragons and sphinxes and centaurs, of hybrids and monsters. He has loved hearing about them from a young age, would request every bedtime story to feature some sort of supernatural being, much to the delight of his mother, who shared his interest in the world that was promised to lie right outside of the mundane realm. She would tell him stories, some born from legend, some merely thought up by her own creative mind, and every night Louis would go to sleep wondering what it would be like to meet a creature like that one day. </p><p>He knew they were just fictional, of course he did. But in his dreams he learned to fly with dragons, learned to swim with mermaids, fought against trolls and golems with his best friends. And for the longest time he couldn’t help but hope that one day all of this might prove to be real. He’d always keep an eye out around the little babbling brooks that ran through their town, just in case he’d be able to spot a shellycoat or Wicked Jenny, but nothing ever happened, and Louis was never quite sure if he was relieved or disappointed.</p><p>As he grew up, he never quite outgrew the stories, still stayed and listened as his mum told them to his younger siblings, though most of them never had the same interest in them as Louis had had. They preferred stories about princesses and princes, about large castles and glass slippers, and even though those stories had their own kind of magic, they just seemed a little boring to Louis. Stories were meant to transport you to another world, one in which fantastical creatures and adventures were just around the corner. One in which you’d have something to look forward to that wasn’t as dull as <em>marriage</em>.</p><p>But life goes on, ever uneventful, as Louis grows up.</p><p>At least. For a while.</p><p>*</p><p>The first reports are dismissed, as tall tales or folklore. As mental illness, poor Bathilda, she’d gone loopy. As people simply getting scared in the dark woods and seeing things, making things up. Magic isn’t real. Mythological creatures aren't real.</p><p>But then the first one is caught. A faun, that little Meg from around the corner swears has attacked her in the woods, and everyone comes to the marketplace to see the faun be hanged for its crimes. Louis doesn’t want to go, but at the same time, he finds himself unable to stay away. Not when this proves what he’s wanted to believe all along, that magic is real. That these creatures are real, and only seeing it with his own eyes is enough to convince him.</p><p>He leaves before the actual hanging though. Just the thought of it makes him sick, but then, little Meg <em>swore</em>, and Louis knows that some creatures are evil, but his mum had never told him that fauns were aggressive or malevolent. </p><p>But maybe they are. And maybe all creatures are; because after this, over the course of the next year, more things happen. More sightings, more attacks that lead to captures and hangings end up happening. All in all, more <em>bad</em> happens. </p><p>First, shortly after the hanging of the faun, little Meg gets terribly ill. So ill that even the doctors aren’t sure how to fix her, and the gravediggers already start preparing for the burial. </p><p>After Mister Ronson swears that his wife is actually a selkie and hadn’t run off but had found her seal coat and had returned to the sea, after that turns out to be <em>true</em>, and she is hanged in the marketplace, Mister Ronson’s apothecary burns down to the ground. </p><p>After wood nymphs and sprites turn out to be real, turn out to be <em>dangerous</em>, and the threat is dealt with the only way they know how, the rivers overflow and the church collapses.</p><p>*</p><p>It’s agreed that this can’t continue on any longer. The creatures are dangerous, that much is clear, but hanging them proves dangerous too, and the people in town shudder to think of what could happen if bigger, more dangerous creatures would find their way to there.</p><p>So, to keep the town safe from harm, without actually killing any creatures, a prison is built.</p><p>The building has iron mixed in with every surface, because iron is a weakness for most supernatural creatures. Iron forces most of them into their human form, and over the course of a year, architects and doctors and priests and builders come up with additional ways to neutralize their powers, to hold them safely.</p><p>It’s all to protect the town. To keep the townsfolk safe. </p><p>*</p><p>Louis is twenty when he starts working at the prison. His fascination for supernatural creatures had turned into something most closely resembling loathing over the years, due to the many stories of their evildoing, and although he still doesn’t believe in hanging them for their crimes, he does believe in keeping the town safe. In making sure that his siblings get to grow up without fear of being kidnapped or hurt. As the oldest son, it feels like his duty to make sure that no creature in the wide area will ever pose a threat to anyone. </p><p>Not that his job is quite that glamorous. He works as a guard, patrolling the halls and handing out plates of food during lunch and dinner time. On occasion, he’s there when the new prisoners are brought in. All of them locked, hand and feet, in iron chains, looking deceptively human. But Louis knows better. He knows that it’s only iron that protects the guards, that keeps them from changing into their true form.</p><p>From attacking him.</p><p>Still, it’s hard not to feel sympathy sometimes. Because some of them, in human form, resemble children, even though they can be rumoured to be over two hundred years old. The elves, specifically, look young, but their eyes betray their true age. </p><p>Often, it also betrays their true intentions, because Louis can see it. The anger. The hatred.</p><p>Even though he’s not particularly religious, he’s learned to ward off their bad intentions by drawing a cross in the air, by dipping his fingers into holy water before he leaves for home. </p><p>It works. The town is safer. The prison grows.</p><p>*</p><p><em>“Please.” </em>It’s soft, coming from the end of the hallway, and Louis tries not to listen to it, knows that there are new arrivals today that were brought in just before his shift. He knows that he needs to do his job, which is to patrol the hallways, make sure everyone is in their cell and well behaved. </p><p><em>“Please.” </em>There’s something soft and appealing about the voice, and Louis flinches, tries to sound stern when he speaks. “Quiet.” </p><p>A pause. Then a third, quieter <em>“please”</em>.</p><p>Something about it tugs at his heartstrings, even when he knows that it shouldn’t, that the supernatural creatures locked up here have all been proven dangerous, in no way deserving of compassion. But Louis can’t help himself, he’s always been fascinated, and after a quick check to make sure no other guards are around he heads towards the end of the hallway.</p><p>“What?” He barks, or tries to, but his voice falls flat when he comes face to face with the prisoner in cell 1-65. It’s curled up in a corner of the cell, naked save for a red cloth tied around its waist, its knees drawn up to his chest and its arms curled protectively around it. The arms are shaking, and when the creature looks up, dark brown locks frame its face.</p><p>It looks like a boy. A very beautiful boy. With flawless skin and bold green eyes, and Louis’ eyes go to the little notification card next to the cell number.</p><p><em>Phoenix</em>, it reads. <em>Classification: lethal</em>. </p><p>The Phoenix doesn’t look lethal, it just looks sad and scared, and Louis knows better, he <em>does</em>. “What do you need?” It’s not unkind, he can’t make himself be unkind when he’s confronted with someone that looks like he could be his age. </p><p>It. Not he. He should remember that. But it’s hard to, when they look so deceptively human.</p><p>“Water,” the Phoenix whispers, focusing those green green eyes on something that isn’t quite Louis’ face, as though it’s not sure it’s allowed to look at him directly. “Please. I’m burning up. I need water.”</p><p>Louis frowns. “It’s not lunchtime yet,” he says, and the Phoenix buries its head in its arms and rocks back and forth for a moment. “You get water at lunchtime, just like everyone else.”</p><p>“You don’t understand,” comes a voice from behind him, and Louis whirls around to cell 1-64, finds a creature that resembles a girl that looks no older than Lottie, though its eyes scream that it’s much older than that. Possibly timeless. “You stupid humans, you don’t <em>understand</em>.” It moves towards the front of the cell, gestures at the boy in cell 1-65. “He’s a <em>Phoenix</em>. You might have him subdued, you might have him appear human, but he’s not. He’s burning up inside because you’re keeping him trapped inside of his own body. He needs water to cool down. To <em>survive</em>.”</p><p>Louis takes a step backwards, not because of the venom in the creature's voice, but because even if he knows it’s safer for the town to lock away these creatures, he doesn’t want them to <em>die</em>. And it’s not fear of fires or illness or collapsing buildings, of revenge or retribution. It’s because there’s been enough suffering, and watching it is one thing but adding onto it - Louis doesn’t know if he’d be able to live with himself.</p><p>“Okay,” he breathes out, holding his hands up, as if there was any circumstance in which he could prove to it, to any of the creatures here, that he means no harm. “Okay, I’ll get some water.” He glances at the Phoenix, whose shaking seems to have gotten worse even during this short exchange, his throat constricting a little bit. He turns back towards the creature in the other cell, watches the way it watches the Phoenix, surprised to see a deep concern in its eyes. A sorrow. He swallows. “Thank you,” he whispers, because something in its gaze, in the way it regards the Phoenix with anguish in its expression, is almost humbling.</p><p>There’s no reply, but then Louis doesn’t wait for one. Not when there’s a life to save.</p><p>*</p><p>The grateful way the Phoenix responds when he returns with the water is almost nauseating, and Louis wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what he could possibly say. Except for “Do you need more?” when the entire bottle of water is drained within seconds. </p><p>The Phoenix glances up at him, its eyes a slightly softer green now, the trembling stopped. “No,” it says softly, in that melodious voice that makes Louis want to believe it’s harmless, even when the sign next to the door says otherwise. “I can wait until lunch. Thank you.” </p><p>Louis’ stomach churns. He doesn’t feel like he should be thanked for the bare minimum of human kindness, but the Phoenix looks genuinely grateful, though clearly still rattled. And who can blame it? Being suddenly captured and forced into human form, into a cell with no possibility of getting out, with guards who don’t understand what you are and what you need - Louis frowns. “I’ll ask the higher ups to put a sink into your room,” he says quietly. “I’m sure they don’t want you to die.”</p><p>“Why not?” It’s quiet, but sincere, and all the more jarring for it.</p><p>Louis blinks. “Because-” he starts, and finds that he doesn’t know how to answer that. Well, he does, but the right answer doesn’t quite feel like the right answer. There should be a better reason for not committing murder than just the fear of retaliation. It should simply be considered a sin. But then, how can he tell that to a creature that is labeled as lethal, that is an active threat against Louis and his community? That wouldn’t extend his people the same courtesy? </p><p>“Because they fear us,” the creature in cell 1-64 says, and Louis shivers, when it continues, the words so jarring in the voice of a thirteen year old girl. “And they’re right to.”</p><p>The Phoenix raises its head, its eyes glittering with something orange, gaze fixing on the creature in the opposite cell, that Louis knows is a Wind Kitsune, a trickster spirit that is classified as <em>highly dangerous</em>. “If I burn-” the Phoenix starts, and there’s a darker inflection in its voice now, no longer melodious and appealing, but dangerous, all the more so because it still sounds enchanting. “If <em>we</em> burn," it turns its head to look Louis dead in the eyes. "Then you’ll burn with us.”</p><p>Louis’ heart sinks. </p><p>*</p><p>Despite his encounter with the Phoenix only serving to frighten him, Louis still talks to the higher ups, explains to them what had happened. He leaves out the threat that the Phoenix made, because even if that might serve as an extra incentive to place the sink he doesn’t want it to backfire and cause problems. If the Phoenix is really a lethal threat, the last thing Louis wants is to antagonize it, to end up having to face the wrath of other creatures if it dies in his care. </p><p>His lobbying is fortunately not without result. Unfortunately, however, everyone is busy, so it’s left up to Louis to place the sink.</p><p>He has a taser in his back pocket, his fingerprint ID added to the individual cell so he can open it, and he can’t deny the fact that his heart is pounding so fast and loudly that he’s sure every creature with supernatural hearing is able to tell. There’s a few bars being rattled as he walks past, but he keeps his head down, makes it all the way down to cell 1-65 without too much hassle.</p><p>“Prisoner 998, stand back from the door.” He tries to sound stern, to sound tough, like he’s not absolutely bricking it at the thought of locking himself in a cell with a lethal creature. Sure, its powers are bound, but it still resembles a boy Louis’ age, and he doesn’t fancy his own chances in a fight. Especially not when the Phoenix has desperation on its side. </p><p>The Phoenix glances up, sat in the same corner Louis had left it in earlier today, and makes no move to move. It’s far enough away from the door though, so Louis doesn’t mind, though he still keeps an eye on it. </p><p>“He has a name you know,” the Wind Kitsune speaks up, and Louis twitches, especially when he sees the Phoenix raise its head, its eyes a stormy green as it looks at Louis then past him, towards the other cell. It shakes his head, and the Wind Kitsune huffs.</p><p>“It’s alright,” the Phoenix says, “guard 155204 doesn’t care.”</p><p>Louis glances down absently at his pants pocket, where his work identification card is securely in his wallet. There’s no way the Phoenix should have been able to read it through layers of fabric, and something about it sounds almost like a threat. He swallows. “It’s Louis. My name. You probably don’t care either, but, I could call you by your name if it’s important to you.” </p><p>It’s not like it matters. And calling it by its species can feel like adding insult on top of injury. Louis doesn’t think he’d much like being called <em>human prisoner 28 </em>if he were somehow locked up in some supernatural creature’s prison. </p><p>But then, supernatural creatures don’t build prisons. And Louis wonders if that’s worse or better somehow. Wonders if humans are the only ones who don’t simply kill, but torture. Even if that’s not exactly what they’re doing here.</p><p>He wonders, briefly, if the creatures here would prefer death over imprisonment, if they were able to choose. </p><p>“Louis,” the Phoenix repeats. “Do you realize that giving one's true name can give someone else power over you?” It scoffs, eyes still watching Louis as he brings the sink into the room. “Then, why would you know that. You’re the ones in power after all. Keeping us locked up here, without tribunal, without proof of ill will.” Its eyes spark orange for a moment, and Louis has to suppress a shiver.</p><p>“I brought you a sink,” he says, because he’s not sure how else to respond to anything it had said. It had a point. There was no burden of proof on the town these days. Creatures were simply locked up because their nature proved them to be a threat. He’s not sure why it bothers him now, when what should matter most is keeping his community safe.</p><p>Maybe it’s because there’s something, deep down, that makes Louis different too.</p><p>It’s not magic. He’s not different in any of the obvious ways, doesn’t know how to do spells and can’t change into an animal at will, or even at the full moon.</p><p>But he feels about boys the way he is supposed to feel about girls, and that is seen as a threat too. As unnatural, and wrong, sinful, and Louis wonders if there will come a time when he will be just as easily put in a cell as these creatures are now.</p><p>Without tribunal. Without chance of release. </p><p>Simply for something that’s inside of him that he has no control over.</p><p>But then it’s different too. Because the way he feels about boys doesn’t cause anyone any pain. Except for when Ivy Mae had hinted at him starting to court her, when his mum and her dad had gotten together and worked out the details and he had balked at the thought of spending the rest of his life with her, no matter how kind she was. But when he could help it, he didn’t hurt anyone. He didn’t cause tornadoes or forest fires-</p><p>But would he have? If someone had wronged him, or wronged his family. If he’d had powers, would he have retaliated?</p><p>The thought sits heavily in his stomach, and even though no more than a minute has passed since he last spoke the silence feels oppressive.</p><p>Because the Phoenix isn’t speaking up. It's not moving either, so that’s a plus, Louis supposes, but still, he tries to keep it in his line of sight as he lifts the sink in place, trying to remember how to attach it. It’s hard to think, when every cell of his skin is so aware of the danger emanating from the creature in the cell. </p><p>He can still feel the Wind Kitsune’s eyes on him as well, but though it causes him to drop his vice two times in the space of five minutes, it doesn’t speak up either. So Louis works in silence, double checking his work once he’s done, relieved when water comes out of the tap and nowhere else. </p><p>He freezes, when the Phoenix is suddenly next to him, is about to grab for his taser and tell him to <em>back away to the other end of the cell, Prisoner 998</em> when he realizes that it’s merely reaching out for the steady flow of the water, the skin on its fingertips actually hissing when it comes into contact with the cool stream. Louis watches, fascinated, as the slight orange hue to the Phoenix’ skin fades somewhat. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, watching the Phoenix’ hand move through the water, droplets rolling down its arms and leaving slightly paler skin in their wake. “I’m sorry we didn’t know. I’m sorry you suffered.”</p><p>The Phoenix cocks its head, looking at him, and it’s only then that Louis is reminded to take a step back. “I’m not going to thank you,” it says quietly. “Because I’m still suffering. We all are. This doesn’t make up for that.” Even in its soft, melodious voice, the words feel like an attack, but Louis doesn’t respond in kind, because it’s not as though the creature is wrong. Even though it’s not nearly as simple as that. “But I will give you a name, because you asked. Because I’m not Prisoner 998 of cell 1-65. My true name isn’t for you, when you already hold enough power over me. But you may call me Harry.”</p><p>Harry. Louis blinks. With the formal way the Phoenix had spoken he had expected something more old fashioned, or grand. Not a simple Harry. </p><p>The Wind Kitsune in the other cell laughs. “Harry,” it repeats, in a sing-song voice that’s nowhere near as appealing as the Phoenix’ - Harry’s - voice had sounded. “Ruler of armies,” it sounds delighted, as though Harry’s played a good joke on him by naming himself that. “The Army Ruler and the Famed Warrior. That’s you, Louis,” somehow his name comes out sounding mocking, and slightly like a threat. “The famed warrior.” </p><p>Something about the voice, the gleeful way it speaks, grates on Louis’ nerves, and he turns towards the other cell, eyes narrowed. “And what should I call you, Kitsune?” He spits out, but the Kitsune just smiles. It’s enough to bring chills down Louis’ spine. </p><p>“What you call me is of no importance, Warrior. I don’t abide by your rules. My name will not give you power over me.”</p><p>Louis doesn’t have patience for this. “Why not tell me it then. If it doesn’t matter.”</p><p>The Kitsune smiles. “Because it matters to you. Because you think that knowing my name makes a difference. Because then you can go home and you can pretend that what you’re doing here doesn’t make you evil. You can pretend that the real monsters are the ones locked up here, not the ones walking around with your friends’ faces in the town square.” </p><p>Louis feels something dirty and disgusting, swirling in his stomach. He tries to forget about it the best way he knows how, by trying to throw it back, argue. “Why’d you care so much before then, that I called Harry by his prisoner name? If none of it matters, why’d you speak up?”</p><p>A thirteen year old girl’s giggle has never sounded so wrong to his ears before. “Because,” the Kitsune whispers, and Louis has to resist the urge to go over to its cell to hear the words coming next, feels another one of those slow shivers that makes him wonder if truly <em>all</em> the creatures’ powers had been blocked by the various wards in the building. “Now I’m in your head. And once I’m in your head, I’ll be in your dreams. And soon enough, I’ll be out the door.”</p><p>He shivers. “And then what?” He finds himself asking, despite knowing, deep down, that he doesn’t want to know the answer.</p><p>He gets one nonetheless. “And then, I will hunt you down, Famed Warrior, and we will see just how good you are, and whether or not you will have the honor of spilling your blood for my tails.”</p><p>*</p><p>The Kitsune was right. Louis goes home and he can’t get its words out of his mind. </p><p>He ends up dreaming about it for the next two nights in a row, and even on his day off he walks around with the uncanny feeling that he’s being watched. </p><p>When he returns to work after his day off he’s almost reluctant to head into Hallway 1, and so he tends to the creatures on the other floors first, working his way down from the top floor simply because it feels like less of a copout. Floor 3 is only half full, and Louis could have sworn that there were more creatures here before he left, but there’s no talk of anything strange happening, and he figures that perhaps his dreams have made him more on edge, have convinced him that something strange is going on when there really isn’t. </p><p>Dragging his feet, he cleans Floor 2, patrols the hallway for a bit, the prisoners oddly quiet, just watching him as he walks up and down past their cells. There’s a Púca in cell 232, that looks like a blonde boy Louis’ age, someone he might have befriended if he’d seen him around town, because the creature always looks friendly, a strong Irish accent that is almost always heard telling stories or comforting the creatures in other cells. There are many more creatures here than on the third floor, though the majority of them are considered to be less dangerous than the ones on the lower floor, where the Kitsune and Harry reside.</p><p>Harry. It’s funny, thinking of the Phoenix as a boy his age. Having been given a name to call it, it’s difficult to distinguish between himself and Harry, separate them by species. Somehow, even in his head, Louis has begun calling the Phoenix <em>him</em>, and <em>he</em>, instead of it. He wonders if that’s what the Kitsune had meant, about getting into his head. The more he humanises these creatures, the harder it becomes to distinguish between himself and them, between humans and monsters.</p><p>But the thing is, not all of them are monsters. At least, not from what Louis had heard, growing up. Not every supernatural creature was evil, and though some were mischievous and things could end up badly when you crossed paths, there were also some that were benign. That cared for trees and earth and water, that provided peace and balance to the earth.</p><p>Not for the first time Louis wonders what the creatures think of them. Are they the invaders to the nymphs and fairies that had made their homes in these parts? He wonders if they’re not the ones who have started what seems to be an ongoing war. After all, first blood was shed on their side, with the hanging of the Faun, nearly three years ago now. If all humans do is plunder and kill and take what doesn’t rightfully belong to them, cutting down trees to make roads and towns, then can the creatures really be blamed for retaliating?</p><p>He’s frustrated with himself, for letting the Kitsune into his head, angry for not being able to get rid of these thoughts, and with anger comes bravery, comes the foolhardiness that has him marching down to the first floor, all the way to the end of the hallway.</p><p>The cell is empty.</p><p>The cell is <em>empty</em> and Louis blinks at it for a moment, his eyes going to the little notification card he knows should be next to the number, but it’s not there. </p><p>“Come to gloat about your work, Warrior?” The voice comes from behind him, and Louis spins around, watches the Phoenix, standing close to the bars, its eyes a menacing orange. </p><p>“I - what?” He splutters, taking an instinctive step backwards, because not even iron bars feel very safe right now, not when his mind is playing tricks on him and he is almost sure he can see fire burn beneath the Phoenix’ skin.</p><p>“They took her. Yesterday morning. After you’d complained to the bosses, no doubt, about her threatening you.”</p><p>Louis shakes his head, even when he can’t make his mouth work at first. Even when part of him is so terrified that this <em>is</em> his fault somehow. “I didn’t,” he swallows, hands shaking as he holds them up, as though he can prove to the Phoenix that he is innocent, means no harm. “I haven’t told them. I swear.”</p><p>“Don’t believe him,” a squeaky voice to the right of the Phoenix’ cell pipes up. Cell 1-63, a Brownie, who even in human form barely stands taller than Louis’ hips. “Make him tell you.” </p><p><em>Make him-</em> Louis blinks, eyes slow to move from the Brownie up to the Phoenix’ face, its eyes now a mesmerizing green, with only occasional orange specks. “Louis,” it says, and Louis’ name has never sounded sweeter. He instinctively takes a step forward, even when his body wants to protest; even when he logically knows that there is some magic left here, because he doesn’t feel like he’s got full control over his body and thoughts right now. But the Phoenix sounds so sweet, and even with Louis’ body screaming danger, his brain insists that he’s safe. “Tell me what happened. It’s okay. You can be honest.”</p><p>The gaze of the Phoenix is unwavering, and Louis sways a bit where he stands, unable to break the eye contact between them, even when it makes him feel a little lightheaded, like the Phoenix is literally going through his brain. “I don’t know,” he says, and it sounds a bit far away, like he’s listening to himself say these words on a recording, his voice just slightly distorted and muffled. “I haven’t told anyone. I went home after the Kitsune threatened me, and it was right, it was in my head, I dreamt about it, but I didn’t say anything to anyone.” </p><p>There’s a soft hissing noise, and then the fog in his brain fades, and the Phoenix’ eyes look normal again. Louis feels chilly, his breath coming out a bit quick. “You’ve got magic left,” he whispers, and even he can hear the terror in his voice.</p><p>The Phoenix raises its chin, its gaze now a little cool. “Only this,” it says. “Only enough to make you tell me the truth. <em>I’m</em> not the one you need to fear, Warrior. Look around. Do I look like the biggest threat in here?”</p><p>Yes, Louis wants to argue. Yes, because the Phoenix’ notification card is the only one that says <em>lethal</em>. Even the Incubus a little further down, Prisoner 616, is only classified as <em>highly dangerous</em>. But he knows that that’s not what the Phoenix means. He knows that the Kitsune being taken away - why? And by who? Louis had never heard of any of them being taken, because they all knew that bad things would happen if any of the creatures were hurt - means that something else is going on. Means that even in here, these creatures aren’t safe.</p><p>And that - that’s not what the rules are. That’s not what people were told. Yes, it was safer to lock away the creatures, and Louis can understand that, wants his family safe, even at the cost of his soul feeling a little blemished whenever he sees the cells that they lock away these creatures in. But that was supposed to be it. They were locked away, but cared for. That was the deal. </p><p>“Maybe it will come back?” He whispers, but it sounds feeble even to his own ears, and the weight in his stomach tells him that it isn’t true, that whatever had happened here had led to death. Would likely lead to more death, because Louis remembers what the Phoenix promised. </p><p>“She.” The Phoenix interrupts him. “She had a name. A <em>family</em>. Do you have a family, Warrior? How would you feel, if you were taken away from them?” </p><p>Louis’ stomach drops even more. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, but even as he says it he knows it isn’t enough. But it’s all he has. “I’m- I’m so sorry.”</p><p>*</p><p>He checks. Makes a little list in his head. </p><p>There are 25 prisoners on Floor 3 on Monday, in addition to 60 on Floor 2 and 65 on Floor 1. On Tuesday and Wednesday he counts the same number, and by Friday the amount of prisoners has only gone up, due to the arrival of some new ones. The numbers should be a comfort, but Louis can’t shake the feeling that the disappearance of the Kitsune hadn’t been random. He hadn’t told anyone, and unless someone else on the floor had said something - and why would they? Why rat out one of their own to the guards? - there was no reason for it to have disappeared, at least not right when it did.</p><p>The Phoenix doesn’t talk to him when he brings it food or patrols the hallway, but when it occasionally looks at him, Louis feels that its gaze is mostly curious. As though it’s trying to figure him out; trying to find out why he hadn’t told the higher ups that there was still some magical ability left in it, perhaps. Louis has asked himself that question too. He knows that he should have. Knows that any residual ability could prove to be very dangerous, and if the Phoenix was able to do this, then who was to say that some others didn’t have abilities left too?</p><p>But he doesn’t. Because if there <em>is</em> something going on here, then leaving them defenseless seems more cruel than anything. </p><p>When he comes back after his day off, on Sunday, he goes through the hallways again, counting the numbers almost absently. There had been two more arrivals on Floor 3 on Friday, taking the number up to 27, another four added to Floor 2, and Floor 1 had stayed at full capacity at 65. </p><p>Floor 3 has 27 prisoners. </p><p>Floor 2 has 63. </p><p>Floor 2, which is supposed to have 64 prisoners, instead has only 63. As soon as he realizes, it clicks why the floor had felt so eerie from the moment he’d stepped into the hallway. </p><p>It’s quiet. </p><p>It’s <em>never</em> quiet, not with the Púca, prisoner 677, in cell 232. </p><p>Louis slows his steps, the pit in his stomach growing bigger, and he doesn’t want to believe it, wants to think that perhaps it’s just sleeping, perhaps he’s miscounted and he’s getting himself worked up for no reason.</p><p>But then he reaches the cell, and just like with the Kitsune at the start of the week, there’s no notification card. No proof that the cell was ever occupied. It’s like the Púca has simply been erased from existence.</p><p>Louis is not sure why, but his first instinct is to rush down to Floor 1, his heart pounding in his chest, blood rushing through his veins so quickly that he can practically hear it, and it’s not until he comes to a skidding halt at the end of the hallway and finds the Phoenix resting on its bed that he breathes again.</p><p>“Harry.” It might be the first time he’s said its name out loud, at least, addressed the Phoenix with it. It’s full of relief and frustration and anger, of confusion and fear, and it’s a surprise to himself, that he’s genuinely afraid. And not <em>of</em> these creatures, but <em>for</em> them.</p><p>The Phoenix slowly blinks one eye open in response to its name, though something about the urgency in Louis’ voice has it up from its bed and next to the bars within seconds. Its eyes are a mellow green, but not even that is enough to calm Louis’ racing heart. “Harry, someone’s missing.” His voice is shaky and he’s not sure why he’s telling this to the Phoenix, but he needs to tell <em>someone</em> and he’s terrified of what it means that he doesn’t feel comfortable telling the other guards. “I think they took someone again.”</p><p>He stands there, chest heaving, desperation on his face, not sure what he’s waiting for, but somehow, there’s a part of him that expects Harry to have all the answers, if not be able to fix it. </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>Louis blinks. “You-” he starts, and he’s surprised to find himself shaking, to feel the press of tears behind his eyes. </p><p>“I’m a Phoenix,” the Phoenix says, its voice soft. “Do you know what Phoenixes do, Warrior?”</p><p>Louis shakes his head. There’s not a lot he knows about them, at least. His mum’s stories had never focused on Phoenixes, and the little he remembers is gone in the hecticity of the moment. He doesn’t even really have brain cells left to wonder why Harry insists on calling him Warrior when he’s given him his true name. </p><p>“My kind has healing powers.” The Phoenix explains, standing near the bars, close enough for Louis to touch, but there is nothing menacing about its presence, just an almost overwhelming sorrow. “Phoenix tears can heal any critical wound. Some say they can even raise the dead.”</p><p>His eyes flick up to Harry’s. “Raise the-”</p><p>Harry’s eyes shimmer a soft orange for just a second or so. “The Púca didn’t survive the torment they inflicted upon it. Your kind, it’s cruel. They brought me in. Asked me to raise him.” He grimaces. “I didn’t have the luxury of refusing, as I’m sure you might understand. I would have, otherwise, because having no life is still better than this cursed existence, especially when we are experimented upon. But I was gently persuaded to bring him back.” </p><p>Louis lets out a shaky breath. “But then where is it? It wasn’t in its cell this morning.”</p><p>“<em>He</em>,” Harry says quietly, but so pointedly that Louis actually winces, “is healing. I can smell it. Raising the dead is a nasty business, even for the older ones of our kind. It can be done, but the body will need time to get back its strength. With the torture inflicted upon him, he will need more than a few days before he’s presentable again.” There’s a sorrowful expression on his face, that turns harder when his eyes focus on Louis. “So I’m sure he’ll be in his cell in no time. Once the wounds have disappeared. Wouldn’t want anyone to find out, after all. Stories can start small, nothing more than a whisper, but by the end, even a slight gust of wind can cause a storm.”</p><p>Louis swallows. “I didn’t know,” he says weakly, and in answer the Phoenix just looks at him, raises its chin.</p><p>No. Not it. <em>He</em>. </p><p>“But now you do.” Harry says quietly. “And that means that you have to make a choice.”</p><p>*</p><p>The words haunt him all afternoon. He has a choice. </p><p>The choice between what is right, and what is easy. Between keeping quiet and letting these creatures get experimented on, get <em>tortured</em>, while he takes home his paycheck and keeps his family safe; and risking everything, his own safety, possibly his life, to save creatures that society has deemed highly dangerous, if not lethal.</p><p>He doesn’t even know where to start.</p><p>He contemplates telling someone, but who would he tell? Who <em>could </em>he tell, that could be trusted to do the right thing? How far exactly does this go? Do the doctors in town know? The priests? Who had decided that experimenting on these creatures was allowed, and why wasn’t anyone stopping them? </p><p>He can’t help but be suspicious of everyone in the building, even his coworkers. The ones that laugh and jeer when new prisoners are being brought in, are they in on it? Do they swap horror stories over bottles of beer? </p><p>The Kitsune is dead, Harry had told him. Apparently, creatures that were classified as <em>highly dangerous</em> weren’t worth the risk of raising back to life, not even when killing them could cause all kinds of bad things to happen. Do the people in charge not care? Or are they so convinced that their prison could hold any creature, that they think themselves untouchable?</p><p> Someone would have had to dispose of the body - was it one of the builders, whose carts were still coming and going at all hours of the day? Were there really still upgrades to do on the buildings, or was this all just a cover up for the more sinister things that Louis hadn’t known were going on? </p><p>Even though the Kitsune had threatened his life, Louis still thinks that it hadn’t deserved a death like that. If anything, it should’ve at least had a fair chance. </p><p>..A fair chance. </p><p>He wonders about that. If there’s a way to afford them that. Of course, between humans and supernatural creatures there isn’t much of a fair chance. The scales are always going to be tipped in favor of those with powers. </p><p>But was locking them away truly the answer? </p><p>Even without the new knowledge of torture, Louis somehow doesn’t believe anymore that it is.</p><p>*</p><p>“Harry,” he whispers, late at night on Tuesday, just a bit before his shift is about to end. Most of the creatures are sleeping or pretending to be, but Harry is still up, sitting cross legged on his bed, a warm orange current running under his skin. It’s really quite magnificent in the slight darkness of the room. “Harry, I want to help.”</p><p>Harry raises his head, blinking slowly at him, then shifts, those long legs slowly unfolding before he heads towards the front of his cell, where Louis is all but pressed up against the bars in an attempt to go unheard by any creature (supernatural or otherwise) that could possibly be listening in. He doesn’t say anything, just watches him, and Louis wonders if he’s doing that thing again, where he rummages through his mind. He breathes out shakily. “Ask me,” he says quietly, meeting Harry’s eyes. </p><p>Harry hums. “Louis,” he says, and Louis thinks he understands now, why Harry kept calling him Warrior before. Why the Kitsune had said that true names held power. Because hearing his name, in that soft melodious voice, makes Louis want to bare his soul and admit all of his wrongdoings, in the feeble hope that he will be granted absolution. “Be honest.”</p><p>Louis shivers. “I’m terrified,” he says, his fingers curling around one of the bars, wondering how Harry still held power when the iron was supposed to neutralize it, but glad that he at least has a way to convince him that he’s being honest. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how I’ll be able to help in a way that doesn’t start a war.”</p><p>“A war’s already been started, Louis,” Harry says quietly, and Louis finds that there’s tears in his eyes. In both their eyes. He nods.</p><p>“I don’t know how to <em>fix</em> this. How to make it not end in bloodshed. For your kind, or mine. I want to keep my family safe, but then, that just reminds me of what you asked me the other day - what would I do if I was taken from my family, or they were taken from me. And, that’s what started all this, isn’t it? Us attacking your kind. Except that’s not the story they tell here. Here it’s that your kind started it, and maybe that’s true, maybe someone did, but that’s <em>someone</em>. Someone’s sin shouldn’t lead to all of this. There are so many of you in here that probably never did anything to anyone.” He looks up at Harry, at this <em>lethal</em> creature that had felt enough mercy to know that sometimes death was preferable to the alternative. Whose tears have healing powers and who had never once shown aggression. </p><p>“I’ve been told that you are lethal,” he continues. “And I’ve been told that all the creatures in here are dangerous. Are out to hurt us. And maybe some are. Maybe if I did anything to help you out I would end up paying for it with my life. With the lives of those I hold dear.” He swallows. “But before I heard those stories, I heard different ones, from my mum. Stories where supernatural creatures weren’t considered evil simply because they’re <em>different</em>. And maybe it’s naive to hope that all it is is a misunderstanding, prejudice against something that’s other, but it’s not fair, is it? To be judged on things you can’t change.” He feels close to tears again, because this is something he’s been struggling with, something that applies to more than just the difference between humans and supernatural creatures. “I’d want to be judged on my actions and intentions.” He meets Harry’s eyes again. “And maybe I’ll regret it. Maybe this is all just a ruse and the moment I help you, you’re going to hurt me, or kill me, but, this isn’t right. Locking you all away without any proof that you’ve ever done anything wrong-”</p><p>Harry barely blinks, maintains steady eye contact with Louis, and Louis knows that he’s confused, that what he’s saying might still not be enough to convince Harry of his intentions, but he’s desperate for something to change, for some way to right what had gone terribly wrong. “They locked me away because Phoenixes are the true spirit of fire.” Harry finally says. “Because they blamed me for setting the fires in your town.”</p><p>Louis bites his lip. “Did you?” he asks, and even as he asks it he knows that Harry doesn’t need to give him a straight answer. He’s not the one being controlled, he could lie and Louis would never know. </p><p>“I came here to help,” Harry says softly. “I didn’t know what was going on, just that I could feel pain from the other side of the sea. Pain on a scale I’ve never felt before. So I came here, thinking I could help heal whatever was wrong.” There’s something sorrowful in his eyes that makes him look ancient, and Louis wonders briefly just how old he really is. If he’s truly seen the worst of men. “I did not account for the fear and intelligence of humans.”</p><p>“So you meant to get caught?” Louis asks, his brain slowly feeling like it’s coming back to itself, the fog lifted though he’s not much closer to understanding anything about what’s going on.</p><p>Harry gives him a sad look. “I was naive. The downfall of being powerful is that you forget that you’re not invincible.” He shrugs one shoulder. “I heal. I reincarnate. I assumed that I could not be beaten. I should have listened to reason. There’s an old saying. <em>Fire goes hand in hand with pride</em>. I didn’t understand. I do now.”</p><p>Louis looks at him. This boy, with chocolate curls and green eyes that sometimes flicker orange. With skin that, even without touching, he knows will feel warm underneath his fingertips. He looks so innocent. So honest. </p><p>It could still all be a spiel, but Louis doesn’t think it is.</p><p>“I don’t want my family to get hurt,” he says quietly, swallowing again. “I don’t want anyone to get hurt. Because if they do - if they find out it was me who helped-” he cuts himself off, lowers his eyes because of the shame burning in his stomach. He feels like a coward. Shouldn’t he be willing to do the right thing regardless of the consequences? “If it was just me-” he thinks he’d be alright if it was just him. If he lost his life but ended up saving the lives of all these creatures. But his family had never asked for this. And despite the fact that most people in town feared the supernatural and had cheered when the prison had opened, Louis doesn’t think everyone he knows deserves to be put at risk. </p><p>“I understand,” Harry says, and the gentle way in which he says it makes Louis feel seen, in the best and worst ways. It’s like he can look straight through him, even without being in his head like before. “I don’t want any more violence. I want my kind to be safe, and for the war to stop.”</p><p>Louis nods. “But how?” All those questions he’d asked before were still so relevant. How were they going to fix this? How were they going to make sure that justice was served without either side being slaughtered? </p><p>“I think I know a way. But I need your help.” </p><p>*</p><p>“Mum. We need to talk.” </p><p>Louis can feel how dry his mouth is, how his hands are shaking and how part of him still doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do. But he thinks his mum might know. And he thinks that he can trust her to make the right decision, no matter the consequences. </p><p>So he explains to her what’s been going on at the prison. About the torture, and the Phoenix, and the ever growing feeling that this wasn’t right. About the fear, that his decisions would lead to his siblings being hurt, that this cycle of violence and hatred was doomed to repeat itself forever. </p><p>She holds him close, cards her fingers through his hair as though he’s a little boy, as though he’s back to being six and sitting on her lap, hearing her tell those stories about all the supernatural creatures that had shaped his life. “My darling boy,” she murmurs, and Louis isn’t sure why that makes him want to cry. “I knew it would come to this,” it’s soft, and Louis finds himself holding onto her, because something in her voice triggers a deep fear inside of him.</p><p>“Do you remember the stories I’ve told you?” She asks, and Louis nods. “Do you remember the one about the Caladrius?”</p><p>Louis racks his brain, helped by the soothing touch of his mother’s fingertips still gently scratching at the skin on his scalp. “Barely,” he mumbles eventually. “But why’s that matter, mum? How’s a story going to change anything?”</p><p>She chuckles. “Don’t you know enough by now to know that those stories aren’t just stories, darling?” She presses a kiss to the side of his head. “They’re a legacy. They’re <em>our</em> legacy.”</p><p>Louis blinks. “Mum-”</p><p>His mum sighs. “I was going to tell you, when you were growing up. But then the first lynchings happened, and I knew that if we wanted to stay here, I couldn’t risk anyone knowing. Not after what happened to poor Mrs Ronson. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt. I love you so much. My children, they’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” </p><p>“But-” Louis’ voice cracks, and he’s not sure why, but his heart is beating wildly in his chest and he’s both so afraid and so content, like he knows every puzzle piece is about to slide into place. He knows that what she’ll say next will change everything, but it’ll help him decide, it’ll help him realize what the right thing to do is. </p><p>“Your magic is faint, but it is there. I was going to help you develop it, before everything happened. I would’ve been so proud of you, training you to work with me. We could’ve helped so many people.” She smiles, though her eyes look sad. “And perhaps now I’ll be the last of the line. Your sisters, they haven’t inherited the magic. It all goes to the firstborn. My power. <em>Our</em> power.” She smooths his hair from his forehead. “I’m the Caladrius, poppet. You’re a hybrid, your dad was human. If things had been different, if I had been less careful - that could’ve been you, in there. Even if you hadn’t known about your powers. Even if you had never hurt anyone. They would have locked you up and experimented on you, simply because you were born as my son.”</p><p>He was <em>different</em>. Louis’ heart sinks. He’d already been different in one way, and now his mother was adding something else on top of that. “Am I evil?” he whispers, his fingers clinging onto the sleeve of her vest, his eyes not making it up to her face. “Are we the bad guys?”</p><p>“Do you feel evil, darling?” His mum whispers back, and Louis shakes his head. He’s never felt like he wanted to hurt anyone. Never wanted to inflict sickness or suffering, just for his own pleasure. “That’s your answer, then.”</p><p>The pressure in his chest eases somewhat. “Then what is it that we do? What is it that makes us different?”</p><p>His mum shifts, standing up and helping him to his feet as well, taking him to the back of the house, to where her office is. The one room in the house they’re not allowed in, because it’s where she mixes the salves and herbs that are needed to help out the sick women and children that visit her. “There’s a lot of things that make you different, poppet, and only a few of them are because you aren’t human. It’s the one lesson I hoped to teach to you all. That that which makes us different isn’t nearly as much as that which unites us.” She closes the door behind him, locks it too, before heading towards one of the cabinets, opening several drawers. </p><p>“As for what I do. I do what I’ve always done. I take sickness from people. I just do it in a different way now.” She smiles at him, starts putting ingredients from small vials and bags into the mortar on the table. “As for what <em>you </em>need to do - I think we both know there’s only one right choice.”</p><p>Louis swallows. “But what about-”</p><p>“Your Phoenix, he will help. He will keep us safe.” She shifts for a moment, rests a hand against his cheek. “You’re lucky. Phoenixes are special. To have one on your side is a gift. If you help him, good things will happen. Trust in that, poppet. Trust in the magic.” </p><p>Louis isn’t sure how to do that, when he’s spent years being told to fear it, but looking into his mother’s eyes, there’s a part of him that remembers the excitement of the stories, the wish that he would belong in a world outside of the mundane. </p><p>He nods. Takes a deep breath. “I’m ready.”</p><p>*</p><p>He can hear him, the moment he sets foot into the hallway to serve breakfast. It’s a soft song, eerie and haunting and humbling, the only sound that’s audible on the entire floor. Every creature in their cell is listening to it, barely acknowledging him as he puts down their food, and Louis wonders if they hear the same thing that he does, or if there’s more to it, wonders if there’d be more to it for him too if he’d learned.</p><p>He still has trouble believing that he’s magic; he’s never noticed anything, but he knows his mother wouldn’t lie to him. Not about something as big as this. It does put things into perspective though. How many of the creatures here were just like him? Barely aware of their own power, never a threat to anyone? </p><p>Harry doesn’t immediately stop singing when Louis makes it to his cell, instead finishing his lament with notes that go straight through Louis’ soul. He blinks at him then, and Louis swears he can see the shadows his eyelashes cast from all the way across the cell. </p><p>“That was beautiful,” he whispers, scrapes his throat, though his next sentence is just as soft. “I’ve got what you asked for.” He places the tray of food onto the floor of Harry’s cell, takes a step backwards out of habit, even though any fear of him is long gone. </p><p>Harry slowly uncurls his long limbs, gets up from the bed to pick up the tray, the small vial on it quickly slipped into the pocket of his clothes. “I’m glad you’ve decided to help us,” he says softly, and Louis looks down at his shoes.</p><p>“My mum told me something. I mean, I’d made up my mind before that, but-”</p><p>“You’re magic.” Harry says. “I know.”</p><p>Louis blinks, then just stares at him. “You knew?”</p><p>There’s a small flicker of a smile on Harry’s face, before he takes a few careful sips of his water. “I had a feeling, from the first time I saw you. I wasn’t sure until I used magic on you. That kind of magic only works on supernatural creatures. So when it did, I knew for sure.”</p><p>Oh. Louis bites his lip. “You could have ratted me out,” he says quietly, shivering at the thought of being locked up here, like everyone else is. At how close he’d come to being on the other side of the story. </p><p>“I could have,” Harry says, picking through his food, his eyes only occasionally flicking up to meet Louis’. “But then we wouldn’t be where we are now.”</p><p>“Are you saying you knew?” Louis takes a step closer, fingertips brushing over the iron bars separating him and Harry. “That I’d help you? That this would happen?”</p><p>Harry takes another sip of water. “I had hope,” he answers. “Hope that you would realize that we’re on the same side. That we could be, even if you were human.” He gives him an inquisitive look. “Who we are born as is a lot less important than who we come to be, Louis. I had faith that you could be the person your future self aspires to be.”</p><p>It’s an odd way of phrasing it, but Louis thinks he understands the sentiment. He smiles at him, finds that for as afraid as he is, he doesn’t want to let Harry down. No matter the consequences, he can say he did the right thing at least once in his life.</p><p>“You could come with us,” Harry says after a moment, and Louis blinks. “Not all of us will stay together, of course, but some of us are planning to. You could come with us, and learn.”</p><p>It’s a tempting proposition. Not in the least because there’s something about Harry that makes Louis want to get to know him. As a Phoenix, but also as everything else he is. He wants to know how old he is and how he learned the things that he did. He wants to know what his life is like outside of these walls. </p><p>“I can’t,” he says quietly, and it sounds regretful. “My siblings are all here. My mum needs me. I know I might not have a choice, I know that if they find out that I played a part in all this, that I’ll need to leave, but unless I have no other choice, I need to stay. I owe it to them.”</p><p>Harry nods, a smile on his face for the first time. It’s not an entirely happy expression though. Louis wonders if there’s a part of him that is disappointed, or if he will never spare another thought for him once he’s left. “You will have a choice. If this potion does what it’s supposed to, you will have a choice.”</p><p>Louis swallows. “When?”</p><p>“Soon.” Harry answers. “As soon as possible.” He amends, absently fingering the vial in his pocket. Louis wonders if he’s nervous. If he has any doubts at all at whether or not his plan will work. </p><p>Louis desperately hopes that it does. He wants to make sure that he does, but it’s out of his control. The only thing he can do is meet his eyes, and whisper a quiet but heartfelt “good luck.”</p><p>The <em>goodbye</em> goes unsaid, but Louis thinks Harry has heard it anyway, because his eyes soften for a moment, and he gives an almost imperceptible nod.</p><p>*</p><p>The fire starts in the middle of the night, when there are only a few guards on duty. </p><p>Rather, <em>Harry</em> starts the fire in the middle of the night, when there are only a few guards on duty. Louis rushes to his mum’s apothecary room the moment she wakes him up and points it out to him, watches the small flickering in the distance, his heart pounding in his throat. Part of him wishes he was there, to help, but the other part knows that this is better. Safer. Harry had said so. Even though he wasn’t human, even though the fire shouldn’t hurt him the way it did the other guards, it was safer for Louis to stay away.</p><p>He just hopes that it’s safe for the creatures too. Harry had promised him they wouldn’t be harmed, that he could control it, just like he controlled their minds and was able to lead them away from the town. At least, that was the plan. Those who didn’t come willingly were gently coerced, their memories of the town and their imprisonment wiped away once they were all far enough away to be safe. It’s a good plan, better than anything Louis could’ve come up with. But Harry is still just <em>one</em> creature, and Louis can’t help but worry. </p><p>What if the potion hadn’t strengthened his powers as much as they had hoped? What if he had enough strength to create the fire but not to control it? What if this killed the people Louis had worked alongside for the past year? </p><p>Or what if the creatures escaped and remembered everything, exacted their revenge on the town? </p><p>Maybe they should, Louis knows, maybe it would only be fair. At least the doctors and the priests and everyone who had been in the know about the experiments deserved to be punished. But what about the townsfolk? They had benefited from the systemic oppression of the creatures, had turned a blind eye to the concept of justice. Did that make them guilty? Guilty enough to be punished alongside the rest of them? </p><p>He remembers what he’d told his mum. That he was so terrified that this cycle of violence and bloodshed would be neverending. He holds onto what she’d told him that night. That the only thing that can ever put a stop to it, the only thing that can ever be responsible for change, is <em>hope</em>.</p><p>So Louis hopes. He hopes, and he prays, and he watches the flickering in the distance until his eyes grow weary and his brain feels fuzzy. Until it’s a struggle to open his eyes again after blinking, and he has trouble focusing on anything that’s not in his direct line of vision.</p><p>But just before he succumbs to sleep, on the last desperate attempt to open his eyes to more than a squint, he swears he sees a large fiery figure rise up from the building in the distance.</p><p>One that is distinctly shaped like a bird.</p><p>Louis isn’t completely sure if he’s still awake or already dreaming, but he smiles, and even if the words never make it past his lips, his last thought before sleep is loud enough that he hopes the Phoenix can hear him somehow.</p><p>
  <em>Goodbye, Harry.</em>
</p><p>*</p><p>The building has burnt to the ground, he learns the next morning. There’s a meeting in the town square, mandatory for everyone who is able bodied and who can help them search the premises. Because it’s important. Because they need to know the danger the town is in.</p><p>Louis isn’t surprised to learn that the guards that had been on duty had escaped the prison without a second thought for the creatures in their cells. He’s nauseated, but not surprised. </p><p>They expect to find bodies. <em>Hope</em> to find bodies, and Louis heads up the hill with everyone else, with a knot in his stomach and a lump in his throat, praying that they don’t, praying that all the prisoners had made it out unscathed just as Harry had promised to be able to do. </p><p>He checks the First Floor, starting at the end of the hallway, and even though he’s sure that he won’t find Harry burnt up in his cell, his heart still skips a beat when he finds it empty, save for a charred and cracked sink. <em>Thank God</em>, he thinks. At least he had made it out. </p><p>It feels like a selfish thought, and Louis isn’t sure why he would care more about Harry’s fate than any of the other creatures’, but the relief is strong enough to almost make him sag. </p><p>His relief is a stark contrast to the fear that grows around him, when cell after cell is discovered to be empty. People grow desperate, terrified, the implication of what this means for their town making them crawl over rubble and turn over every stone. </p><p>Despite their best efforts, not a single body is located in the entire prison. Louis is careful not to show any relief at that. No one is looking at him differently, or pointing a finger at him, accusing him of having something to do with what had happened last night. He needs it to stay that way.</p><p>In the end it’s written off as an accident. As a miscalculation. Several people have seen the fire taking the shape of a bird, and it’s widely assumed that whatever had happened, the Phoenix was the cause for it. Apparently the cells weren’t strong enough to contain its power, and it had somehow managed to let all the creatures escape. Next time, they say, they’ll make the cells stronger. They’ll have learned from what happened, make sure it doesn’t happen again. </p><p>Louis listens to them as he pushes rubble and debris out of what used to be the Kitsune’s cell, and thinks that they haven’t learned anything. </p><p>*</p><p>Over the next couple of months the town stays on high alert. There are people patrolling the area, keeping careful watch over the buildings and people, looking for any sign of trouble, any sign of anything unnatural. There are groups heading into the forests, and mountains, hunting down any supernatural creature that might make its way back to exact revenge. </p><p>Even Louis holds his breath every night they come back, sure that whatever luck that had caused everything to go according to plan will run out someday. Sure that it will only be a matter of time before the first creature is caught. </p><p>But months go by. Things stay quiet. </p><p>The town debates whether or not there’s a point in rebuilding the prison. </p><p>*</p><p>It’s been a year since the prison burnt down. </p><p>Mostly everything has gone back to the way it was all those years ago, when no one knew about the supernatural and life dragged on the way it’s prone to do.</p><p>Louis works in the town’s school these days. He’s primarily in charge of babysitting the year one kids, and he comes home covered in sticky substances (some he can’t remember happening or can’t even identify) every day, but he much prefers the happy babbling of the toddlers to the distressed sounds of the prison. </p><p>He’s supposed to be happy. </p><p>His mum has taught him a thing or two about his power, and even though he’s had to promise her never to let anyone know that he was different, he’s started using it. Just little things, here and there. Soothing a hurt, an illness that was hidden and that people were unaware of. He heads deep into the forest and sets the illness free, and even though he can’t transform into a bird the way his mum apparently can, he feels a bit closer to Harry every time he does it.</p><p>Harry.</p><p>Perhaps he’s the reason that Louis isn’t fully happy. </p><p>He wonders, sometimes, how different his life would have been if he had taken him up on his offer. If he had gone with him, and been among his own kind. If they would have found a place where people were more accepting, and he didn’t have to hide all the time.</p><p>At least he doesn’t have to hide in his own house anymore. About anything. It had taken more courage than anything has ever done in his life, but he had finally told his mother about his secret, about the way he felt about boys. No one else knows, but at least he isn’t alone anymore. At least there is one person who accepts him the way he is. To whom being <em>different</em> doesn’t mean being <em>bad</em>.</p><p>Life is definitely a lot better than it used to be. But Louis can’t help the feeling that there’s still something missing.</p><p>*</p><p>“There’s someone here to see you, poppet,” his mother tells him, when he returns from work one afternoon. “They’re waiting for you in my apothecary.”</p><p>Louis glances down at himself. At the sticky jam handprints that are on his favorite shirt. The crayon dust that’s stained almost half of his pants. There might be butter in his hair. He should get cleaned up first, he thinks, but something about the way she looks at him has him forgetting all about that, his hand on the doorknob before he’s even aware of passing through the house.</p><p>“Mum?” He asks, because something in her smile makes him feel like whatever is behind his door is going to be important, the kind of thing that can be life altering, and he isn’t sure whether what’s going to happen is good or bad. Because she’s smiling, yes, but there’s a sadness in her eyes too. </p><p>She nods. “It’s alright, poppet.” She promises him, and Louis supposes that if there’s anyone he can trust, it’s his mum.</p><p>So he takes a deep breath, and opens the door.</p><p>*</p><p>He feels frozen, standing there in the doorway, sure that his eyes are betraying him, and then, when the vision near the window moves, sure that this is a mistake, worse, a terrible lapse in judgment. </p><p>“Harry.” His voice cracks, and he finds himself heading into the room, his body once again feeling like he’s not completely in charge of himself, but this time his limbs aren’t screaming danger and the feeling is not because of anything Harry’s done to him. </p><p>At least. Nothing he’s done on purpose.</p><p>He comes to a stop in front of him, his eyes searching his face, and he’s reminded of why he feels so at home in the forest these days, because the colour of Harry’s eyes is something he only finds in nature, even if it is still a stale imitation. “Harry - what are you doing here?” </p><p>There’s a small smile on Harry’s face, a soft glow emanating from his features. “Hello Louis.” His name still sounds like a caress in Harry’s voice, and Louis finds himself holding his breath, a warmth filling him from the tips of his toes all the way to the very top of his head. He wonders if it’s simply from being close to him after all this time, or if Harry is using some sort of power. Whichever it is, he’s not sure if he wants him to stop. “I’m here to see you.”</p><p>Louis swallows. <em>Why</em>, he wants to ask, and maybe also <em>how</em>. But instead he says “It’s not safe for you to be here.”</p><p>The smile widens. “Worried about my safety, Warrior?” It sounds less like an insult, this time. Teasing, almost, and like an endearment.</p><p>“Always,” Louis whispers, and he doesn’t even feel ashamed to admit it. Harry shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. Someone might recognize him, and hurt him, and <em>why</em> is he here if he knows all that? He does know all that, doesn’t he? </p><p>“Why are you sad, Louis?” Harry asks, and Louis blinks at him, must look confused, because Harry lets out a soft chuckle. “I could feel your pain from all across the world. Everywhere I traveled this past year, your pain would call out to me.”</p><p>Louis swallows. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, because he is, because no amount of sadness or pain should ever be reason enough for Harry to come back to someplace that’s dangerous. “It’ll pass.” He glances down. “I thought it would pass.”</p><p>“I thought you would be happy. I kept my promise. I kept the town safe.” Harry says in a voice that’s just as quiet as Louis’. “You got the choice you wanted. To stay.”</p><p>Louis nods, finds himself looking up again, seeing entire different worlds in Harry’s eyes. “You did,” he says softly. “And I’m so grateful.”</p><p>Harry looks at him curiously. “Do you wish you had gone with me?” He asks, and for the first time in maybe the entire time they’ve known one another (and known is a loose word, Louis is well aware, but even in the circumstances, in the brief amount of time they’ve spent together, Louis still feels like he knows him in a way, and like Harry knows him, in some way that few people do) he sounds almost vulnerable. </p><p>Louis has thought about this so many times. He’s still no closer to the answer. “I don’t know,” he says, and he almost wants to ask Harry to use his powers on him, to make him speak the truth because maybe there’s something in Louis’ subconscious that he needs Harry to unlock. “Part of me wishes I had. But part of me knows that I’d have missed being here. For all its faults, this town is my home. These people are my people. But-” he shrugs a shoulder. “Your people are my people too. I don’t know if I’ll ever find a place where I don’t feel different.” He meets Harry’s eyes. “I think, maybe-”</p><p>“Maybe?” Harry’s voice sounds hushed, orange flecks dancing in his eyes, and Louis finds himself wanting to touch his skin, always so inexplicably drawn to the fire underneath. </p><p>“Maybe I don’t want to go away with you. Maybe I just want you to stay.”</p><p>*</p><p>There’s only ever one Phoenix alive at a time. </p><p>In this day and age, and for the next five hundred or so years to come, it is this Phoenix. This Phoenix whose powers have been permanently strengthened thanks to the potion Louis’ mum had brewed up for it. </p><p>Who can change its appearance at will, who has the ability to make any human forget about anything they might have seen. </p><p>Who has made it so it can safely stay with Louis because Louis is sad and Phoenixes are there to heal sadness. </p><p>This Phoenix, <em>Louis’ </em>Phoenix, who stays not just because Louis is sad but also because it has been lonely, and because it likes being Harry, and getting climbed on by all of Louis’ younger siblings. </p><p>This Phoenix, who makes Louis fall in love, not just with him, but also with life. With his own powers, and all the ways in which he is different. </p><p>Different doesn’t mean bad. It doesn’t mean odd, or deviant, or weird. It just means individual. Original. </p><p>And in Louis’ case, it finally means <em>happy</em>.</p><p>-fin-</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you liked this fic, please give it a kudo or a comment or come talk to me about it on my <a href="https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/">Tumblr</a>.<br/>Please also consider reblogging the <a href="https://so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed.tumblr.com/post/624176528661577728/its-time-to-find-your-wings-again-larry-t-12k">fic post</a>, and reading the other works in this collection!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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